


redheads do it better

by alesford



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drunken Shenanigans, F/F, Family Shenanigans, Fluff and Humor, So it's a bit, Written Post-3x02 and Before 3x03, Wynaught Brotp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 06:45:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15724104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alesford/pseuds/alesford
Summary: It’s just a friendly wager between friends. Nicole isn't competitive at all. Besides, everybody knows it's a fact of life that redheads do everything better.Written post-3x02 and before 3x03 aired.





	redheads do it better

**Author's Note:**

> After the insanity of "Jolene" and all of that angst, I figured I could post this fic that was a prompt response on tumblr. An anon sent the following prompt parameters to [**wayhaughtficrec**](http://wayhaughtficrec.tumblr.com):
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> **Redheads do it better.” | wayhaught | context changes encouraged**  
>   
> 
> Of course, I had to oblige. I did write this in the time between 3x02 and the 3x03 airing. Except for the last line, I haven't changed anything from when I posted this. Thus, a casket and not a box full of ashes. Some other discrepancies probably because of the episodes that have aired since the second episode of the season. Anyways, have some silly, Wynaught brotp.

 

**redheads do it better**

 

**-**

 

Seven revenants in three days.

They’re exhausted and they know it isn’t over until the last of the seventy-seven is sent back to hell, but for one night, they decide to pretend to be normal. To make believe that there isn’t a decades-old curse looming over the Earp name and a little girl out there in the world who doesn’t know her mother or father.

They need this.

Because it’s been two months since they had to say goodbye. Two months since they lowered that casket into the ground.

“It isn’t fair,” Wynonna had cried.

Waverly had pulled her close and mumbled into the cold, “Nothing in life usually is.”

So they dress to go to the club.

Wynonna in her one pair of jeans without holes in them and her usual tee and moto jacket pairing. The boots, of course, are a given. Waverly dons a simple, dusky blue dress with strappy heels that draw Nicole’s eyes straight to her legs. Nicole’s payback comes in the form of a light blue, dress striped shirt with the sleeves cuffed at the elbows and a pair of form-fitting black jeans along with her black high-tops. She leaves the top two buttons of the shirt undone and she knows Waverly keeps seeking the exposed skin with want in her eyes.

“Later,” Nicole whispers in her ear before they meet the others downstairs. The redhead expects to elicit a shiver or a gasp but Waverly refuses to let her control the game all the time. Instead, she slides her hand into one of the back pockets of Nicole’s skinny jeans and squeezes her ass as she leans closer. She murmurs her own, _“Later,”_ and the breath against the hollow of Nicole’s neck makes _her_ squirm.

Waverly withdraws her hand with a cheeky grin, and she steps through their bedroom door without another word.

They have to tell Jeremy what he should wear, and he ends up in dark jeans and a white button-up shirt, pulling his blue zip-up hoodie and mustard yellow jacket over it. And Doc? Well, Doc wears what he always wears.

“You’ll fit right in with the hipsters,” Wynonna smarts, flicking at invisible lint on the shoulder of his vest.

  
(Okay, so it isn’t really a _club_ club. Not like anything exclusive. Really, it’s kind of a dive with a dance floor. But it’s in the city where nobody knows who they are and for the night, they can just be the out-of-towners enjoying themselves.)

  
Jeremy disappears almost immediately to the bar, tugging Doc along with him to _help carry drinks,_ leaving the women to snag the first empty table that they see. It’s a high top standing table, but so long as they can put their drinks on it, it’ll do the trick.

Nicole wraps her arms around Waverly from behind and the two of them sway to a beat that doesn’t match whatever music is playing. A year later and they still make _The Notebook_ look bleak.

Wynonna needs to interrupt this sickeningly sweet moment before she gets a cavity. “Interested in a friendly wager, Haught?” she asks, leaning her elbows on the table.

“You better not get us kicked out of here, Wynonna,” Waverly snaps, pointing an accusatory finger at her sister’s face.

“Nothing illegal. Just a little fun, Waves. How about it, Haughtshit?”

Nicole untangles herself from Waverly and hooks her thumbs into the front pockets of her jeans. “Sure. Okay. I’ll bite.”

“Pick out any guy in the club and I’ve got twenty minutes to get his number. Then I’ll pick out a gal pal for you, and you try to do the same. Whoever fails has to do all the dishes for a month.”

Nicole raises an eyebrow. “And if we both succeed?”

Wynonna snorts. “I’m betting that you’re gonna fail, Haught. You’re smooth, but you’re too googly eyed over my sister to win over anybody else. So whaddya say? You in?”

She looks to Waverly with an unspoken question in her eyes. “It is a month of dishes,” she murmurs, and her girlfriend laughs lightly.

“Go for it, Haughtshot,” Waverly says with a wink and a gentle bump of her shoulder.

“I’m in.”

Wynonna grins and claps her hands together just as Doc and Jeremy wander over with their drinks. Beer for Nicole, whiskey neat for Wynonna and Doc, some pretty-looking cocktails for Jeremy and Waverly.

“I know that look, Wynonna. That look spells trouble,” Doc says, eyes narrowing in suspicion as he takes a sip of the amber liquid.

“Nothing illegal and/or causing bodily harm to another human being,” she says innocently. “Scout’s honor.”

Jeremy’s eyes widen and he beams at Wynonna. “You were a scout! I was, too, until the other boys beat me up at summer camp!”

“No, Jeremy, does a twelve-year-old who shoots her own dad seem like girl guide material to you?” she snarks and he shrinks back into himself. Her face scrunches and she shakes her head. “Sorry,” she mutters. “That was mean.”

Jeremy’s shoulders rise and fall in a sort of half-shrug. “It’s okay. I’m used to it, you know.” Ariana Grande’s _No Tears Left to Cry_ starts playing, and his mood immediately brightens again. “I love this song!”

Wynonna looks pointedly at Doc and then at Jeremy until the gunslinger understands her message.

“Jeremy. Would you mind showing me the proper way to dance to this… peculiar example of contemporary music? Wynonna has been encouraging me to expand my horizons.”

The lab tech’s face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning, and he eagerly leads Doc towards the dance floor.

“You just made his night,” Waverly says with a chuckle. “Poor Doc, though. He hates this music.”

Wynonna drains the glass that Doc left behind in a single gulp. “It’s the twenty-first century. I refuse to listen to any more hipster roots revival crap, so he’ll have to get used to it.”

“I’ve picked out your guy, Wynonna,” Nicole interrupts before she can launch into her hour-long tirade against bands with names like _Yolk Lore_. “My ten o’clock, gray blazer, blue chequered shirt, jeans.”

Wynonna turns around so she can look for the guy. “Shaggy brown hair, looks like he belongs in a boy band?”

Nicole grins and nods. “Starting the timer now,” she says, glancing at the watch on her wrist.

“Got this in the bag,” Wynonna says without an ounce of humility before making her way towards the guy in question.

“Um,” Waverly hums as she watches her sister try to chat up the stranger. “I know I’m new to the whole gay thing, but isn’t that guy…?”

“Gay?” Nicole supplies cheerfully. “Yep.”

Waverly shakes her head but a smile graces her lips nonetheless. “You’re as bad as she is.”

“No dishes for a _month,_ Waverly.”

“Yeah, no. Totally worth it.”

The twenty minutes goes by quickly and when Wynonna looks over to them to check her time, both of them shake their heads _no_ at her. She huffs and leaves a very confused man in her wake as she pushes through the crowd to get back to their table.

“Smooth, Earp,” Nicole can’t help but prod.

“Like you can do better, Haughtstuff,” Wynonna says, only a touch bitter that the guy turned out to be gay. She has a feeling Nicole cheated and used her magical lesbian unicorn powers to pick out a man immune to her feminine wiles. Well, two can play at that game.

“Oh, I will, Earp. Who’s the mark?” As Wynonna scans for potential targets, Nicole pulls the last of her beer from the bottle and sets it back on the table, shuffling closer to Waverly. “You okay with this?” she asks, just loud enough for her to hear.

Waverly draws Nicole into a kiss. Nothing scandalous or attention-grabbing, though they both can hear Wynonna clearing her throat obnoxiously. “I trust you,” Waverly says. “Get us out of dish duty, will you?”

And Nicole grins and turns to see who’s been chosen as her mark. The woman at the bar probably looks like the most stereotypical, straight girl to Wynonna, which is why she chose her. She figured out that Nicole had purposefully picked one of the men that had pinged her gaydar earlier in the night.

“Remember, Earp,” Nicole says as she starts walking backwards towards the bar. “One full month of dish duty.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Wynonna waves her on dismissively, watching as the redhead swaggers up to the bar with just the right amount of confidence.

“Are you really going to let your girlfriend flirt with that woman?” Wynonna shouts over the shitty top 100 that’s pumping through the speakers.

“You’re the one that made the bet, Wynonna. If Nicole gets us out of dishes for a month…” Waverly shrugs, taking another sip of the light pink concoction that Jeremy had brought over for her. “Besides,” she says. “Nicole and I are in a good place. Some flirting here and there doesn’t mean she loves me any less. Same goes for me.”

“Blegh!” her sister grumbles, pretending to gag as she always does when she finds their relationship too saccharine for her taste.

Waverly rolls her eyes and turns her attention back to her girlfriend at the bar, standing respectfully close to the woman that Wynonna had pointed out. It takes only five minutes before Nicole saunters back with a smirk on her face and a paper napkin in her hand.

“Shit,” Wynonna curses as Nicole slaps the serviette down onto the table, a phone number scrawled across it in bright red ink.

She claps Wynonna on the shoulder, and she can’t help the smugness in her tone when she states quite simply, “Redheads do it better.”

 

-

 

Neither Nicole nor Wynonna miss Waverly's proud,  _"Yeah, they do."_

 

 


End file.
